Sun burnt Playground

 

An understanding of the pocket size kind,

To teach the reach what they could not find,

To question all, who questioned the fall?

In a sun burnt playground without a ball,

An open mind to those left behind,

The corkscrew few who may still unwind,

To explore the core of this ignore the poor,

In an injured soul the scar still burns sore,

To feel the heal of an unturned real,

See the free that remain concealed,

Beneath the grief of a liars belief,

Stands true the hand of welcome relief,

To ask the task of the single mask,

Be worn as we Basque in our final cask,

Carried by the tide of the lands first bride,

To the palm of peace somewhere inside

Reviews

[Daniel Rodrigues Martin]

Ahh, I'm diggin' it. This right here is my favorite line:

The corkscrew few who may still unwind,

Interesting lingo, all that jazz. I'm too tired to comment on this the way it deserves to be, I think. So I'll stop here and say, good poem, keep it up, and welcome to the community.

Cheers.

-D

[Lea Jane]

Beautiful, remarkable poem! I absolutely loved it, I think you did a really fantastic job. You paint a beautiful picture with your words. I look forward to reading more. :]

[Brie]

very interesting! I like how you rhymed it, kinda like a double rhyming in each line. very nice!
-Brie